Arbitrary Life
by Shi-Toyu
Summary: The prequel to Fortuitous Revenge, covering the events mentioned in chapter 13. Major Character Death. Violence towards a child.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So this is the prequel to my fic Fortuitous Revenge. It explains in details the events mentioned in Chapter 13 of FR.

Chapter One

The grit that covered the floor wherever they were bit into Tony's cheek where it was pressed into the ground. His hands were bound behind him and his shoulders burned with the strain of being put into such an odd position for so long. The eight-year-old bit down on the gag that had been shoved in his mouth to keep from whimpering as he rolled a bit to get a better look at the three men who had taken him from his school. He recognized the one in the black suit as the driver who was filling in for Jarvis while the Stark butler was out of town visiting his sister. Jarvis never would have let this happened.

The driver had picked Tony up from his private school right on time, Tony's third grade teacher barely glancing at him to confirm his identity now that it was four days in to Jarvis's trip. He'd been nice the first few days, Tony'd thought. Not as nice as Jarvis, of course, but nobody was as nice as Jarvis. They'd pulled up to a stop sign just two blocks away from the school and the other two men and climbed on in. It'd only taken Tony moments to figure out that he was being taking and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

Tony had never been kidnapped before, but he'd known for a while that it was something likely to happen. His father had money and enemies and that meant that Tony was a prime target. There'd been an attempt before, when Tony had been just three years old. The kidnappers had broken into the Stark mansion while his parents were away at one of his mom's charity galas. Tony hadn't even known they were there until after Jarvis had incapacitated them. Tony only ventured out of his room because of the ruckus in the hallway.

Once he'd been tied up, the kidnappers didn't really seem to have much of an interest in him. He'd always thought this sort of thing would be a bit more violent, but it hadn't been. They'd carted him into the cabin and left him in a corner as they set about making the phone call to Tony's father. They left it on speaker phone, all three on them were sitting at the rickety table the phone was placed on. Tony wasn't entirely sure how it was still standing. They had to call three times before Tony's father picked up.

"Who is this? How did you get this number?"

Tony winced. His father was drunk. Of course he was. It had to be 4pm by this point, maybe even later. The kidnappers had driven him far out of the city.

"Mr. Stark," the man who spoke wasn't the one who'd been Tony's driver, "it's a good thing you picked up. We have something that belongs to you."

He sounded confident, sure of himself. Tony just wanted this whole thing to be over as soon as possible. It was cold here and they didn't have any electronics for him to mess with. He needed to get back home if he wanted to finish the hoverboard he was working on by the weekend.

"Keep it quick. I don't have all day."

The men exchanged glances.

"Your son, Mr. Stark. If you want him back, you'll put $300,000 into a duffle bag and leave it at the base of the Sherman Monument in Central Parl. You have until midnight tonight to get the money ready. Do not involve the police. Do not tell anyone else. Deliver the money yourself."

There was a beat of silence before loud, gruff laughter filled the room, made tinny as it was filtered through the phone. Tony's chest ached and he pressed his face into the floor to hide his gathering tears. Stark men were made of iron, his father had always said. Stark men did not cry.

"You pathetic pieces of shit," Howard hissed, his drunken slur sounding no less angry. "Did you think it would be so easy? So simple? You'd never get within a mile of my son. Go fuck off with someone else's time. If you call back, I'm handing it over to the police for harassment."

The line ended, the dial tone nearly deafening in the silent room.

" _Fuck…_ Did he just…? Holy shit!"

The man who'd been speaking to Tony's father stood abruptly, hands flying to bury themselves in his dirty blonde hair. Tony watched him warily out of the corner of his eye. Tony's driver reached for the phone to place it back on the receiver. He stared at it like it was some mythical creature he'd never seen before and was more than a little afraid of.

"Maybe we should call him back…"

"Are you crazy?" Blondie rounded on the driver. "He'd hang up in a second and we'd have the cops breathing down our neck in a heartbeat!"

The third man was shaking his head.

"'Let's kidnap the kid,' you said. 'It'll be _so_ easy. It's not like that asshole ever even pays attention to him.' Yeah," he growled aggressively, "so little attention he hasn't even noticed the kid is gone _hours_ after the fact."

"We just have to convince him we really have the kid," the driver tried to protest. "We could put the kid on the phone-"

"He'd never stay on the line long enough," he was cut off by the blond one. "Hell, he's so drunk he might not even recognize his kid's _voice_ …I'm not even convinced he'd recognize the kid if he were sober."

"So, what?" The driver was getting angry, too, by that point. Tony tried to wiggle backward away from them. He'd always hated confrontation. "We send him proof of life? Are _you_ gonna be the one to cut a finger off? Maybe an ear?"

Anthony couldn't help the noise that escaped him, then, and all three of the men snapped to look at him. The third man, who hadn't spoken much, gave a huff of exasperation.

"No one's cutting off anything." He walked toward Tony, ignoring the boy's cringing away as he hauled Tony up into a seated position. "Neither of these idiots is gonna hurt you, kid. They don't have the stomach for it and I wouldn't let 'em in the first place." He shook his head with a sigh. "This was a dumb idea from the start."

The anger between the other two seemed to have cooled off just a bit.

"What're we gonna do, Bill?"

"We're gonna get our asses out of here, is what, go to Cali or something. It's what we should have done in the first place instead of kidnapping some rich fucker's kid to get the money for our debts. Grab what you need here and put it in the car. Put the Stark car in the shed. Nobody's gonna come lookin' for it here."

"What about the kid?" Blondie asked.

The guy who'd taken charge reached inside his jacket, taking out a vial half-full of some clear liquid and a needle. Tony whined and tried to squirm away without much success.

"Can't take him with us. Sure as Hell can't take him back. I'll give him enough to put him to sleep." His gaze transferred to Tony. "Don't worry. This'll make you feel real good. I'll untie you before we leave and you can go as soon as you wake up again. You wanna go home right?"

It was a struggle to keep the tears from spilling down his face as Tony gave a shaky nod. The man smiled at him. He was missing a tooth.

"Good. Then hold real still for me, okay? I know the needle is scary but it'll hurt a lot more if I miss the vein."

Tony trembled on the ground as the man filled the needle before grabbing his arm at the elbow. The man pulled Tony closer to him. The other two were grabbing various things from around the cabin. Tony could hear things being moved even though his eyes were glued to the silver needle being pushed into his arm. The first tears spilled down his cheeks, prompting the man to shush him gently.

"Hey, now, it's okay. Everything's gonna be just fine, alright? You've got nothing to worry about."

It was only seconds after the needle had been removed from his arm that the drugs hit him. Tony sagged into the man's side, the entirely of his eight-year-old bone structure feeling like jello. He felt warm, too, and sleepy. His head was fuzzy, all the various thoughts that normally ran through it having been swept away with the tide. The room spun in a dizzying fashion and Tony let his heavy eyelids slip shut to block it out.

He was lowered gently to the floor as the man began untying him. His limbs felt impossibly heavy. How was he possibly going to go home when it was so hard to move? His arms and legs stayed sprawled out wherever the man left them. A large hand ruffled his hair lightly before moving away. He wished it would come back. He wished his father would ruffle his hair. He'd seen the parents of some of his classmates do it to them. Why didn't his father want to do it to Tony? Why wasn't he ever good enough?

The warmth that had first consumed him was long gone, leaving him freezing and shivering. He tried to pull his arms in to wrap around himself but they refused to obey him. His eyes wouldn't obey him, either, when he tried to force them open. Tony felt like he was sinking, falling further and further into a black pit. Tar clung to him, seeping in through his skin and clumping inside of his veins. Tony tried to scream, tried to call out for help, but it was swallowed up by the void…if any noise even made it out.

The tears came in earnest then, iron be damned. They rolled down his cheeks like lava, burning even as they hardened. His father would think him so pathetic if he could see Tony now, but Tony couldn't stop the tears, couldn't stop the desperate heaving of his chest. Lava must have been in there, too. His lungs burned, burned for air. He couldn't breathe, couldn't suck in a single breath. His mouth wouldn't open, his throat wouldn't work. Oh, God, he was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to d-


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Hela knew the moment he entered her realm, felt the deep shudder as it ran through her mind and down her spine. She had grown so accustomed to souls coming to reside in Helheim that very few registered with her anymore. Those that did were the ones who bore great burdens, souls bound in chains that threatened to drag them into pits where even she would not be able to reach them. It was her duty to help these souls, for they had great destinies tied to them.

"Excuse me," she broke her conversation off abruptly, leaving the long-dead woman she had been speaking to behind her.

Sand shifted beneath her feet as she strode across the training grounds, the members of her guard shifting almost unconsciously in their spars to let her pass uninterrupted. The stone from which her palace was wrought was warm underfoot. She did not hurry, did not lower herself to show that sort of weakness, but she did walk with purpose. There would be no distractions from this soul, not until she was able to save it.

She found him on the palace steps, the front entrance, where these souls so often appeared. It startled her to find a boy who looked so young there now, and a human no less. He must have been very young indeed. Hela knelt beside him, her flowing dress pooling around her, the delicate fabric shimmering in the reddish tint of the realm's eternal sun. The boy's skin was a rich tan color, his hair a chocolaty brown. She could tell even at a glance that his dreams were troubled. She lifted him into her arms and rose.

"Come, little one. Let us find you a place to rest and I will see what weighs upon you so."

They passed few as she carried the boy's limp body through the halls of her palace. The transition from life to death was never an easy one. It was a lot of strain to put a soul through. Very rarely did any being make it through the journey while still conscious. Those that did were only the most powerful of beings, beings who were nigh impossible to kill in the first place. No child of any race or origin could have achieved such a feat. He would be out for quite some time.

She took him to her own chambers, to the sitting room at the forefront. A plush sofa of golden brocade and rose wood was placed artfully before a white stone fireplace with matching armchairs to either side. She settled the boy on the sofa with his head on her lap, the fingers of her flesh hand running through his hair gently. She kept her other hand carefully away from him, dark, leathery skin draped over the armrest. His dreams were disturbed enough. She did not need to add to his troubles.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, the weight of her antlers keeping her pressed against the top curve of the couch. Images flitted behind her eyelids, elusive and insubstantial at first but becoming for solid with each pass her fingers made through the boy's hair. Ah, there it was. A name. Anthony Edward Stark. Tony. She sank deeper into his mind.

He was eight years old, so incredibly young. He'd been taken by three men, only one of which he knew even in passing. They had wanted money from another man, Tony's father. Howard Stark had not paid. She grimaced as she saw how the boy had died. She knew all too well the pain carried by the souls who died such sudden, startling deaths. They had not time to prepare, no time to come to terms with the events of their lives. The boy's memories traveled backwards now, showing her more of his life.

She saw an older man in a suit, silver haired with a white apron tied around his waist. He was smiling and Hela could feel the affection Tony held for this man. Not his father, the boy's mind supplied. Jarvis. The butler. He was making cookies before his trip to visit family, an apology for leaving the boy alone. He was a good man, Hela could tell, but a dangerous one by human standards. It would serve Tony well to have a man like this at his side. She could see his timeline, though. Tony would lose him in less than a decade when he came to join the ranks of Hela's subjects.

School, she saw, was far too easy for the young boy. He became quickly bored with his teachers and set out to do whatever caught his attention, for which he was constantly in trouble. His teachers were constantly irritated by him, his classmates resentful. His only comfort, it seemed, was knowing that he would be allowed to start skipping grades next year. He would not see these people again.

Ah, yes, the father. The last time Tony had even seen the man was a full two weeks before his kidnapping. Howard had been drunk then, too, and angry about something. Tony did not know what. Tony had wanted to show Howard the blueprints for a new engine the boy wanted to build, much more powerful than his last one. Howard had brushed him off, then lashed out when Tony had insisted. He'd snatched the drawn plans from the boy's hands and ripped them in half with a growled, "I don't have time to deal with this, Tony. Go bother your mother." Maria Stark had been out of the country. She wouldn't be back for a few more days at least.

Hela let the memories flow through her mind at their own pace, drifting along their own path. She had seen the boy's entire life before something else, something other, reached out to brush against her. _Destiny_. She shuddered at the strength of the feeling. It was like a cloying scent, catching in her throat and cutting off her air. Her back arched as the fingers in Tony's hair spasmed. She had not been prepared for that kind on hit. This was only a _child._ A _human_ child. And she had already seen his entire life up until that point. He had not accomplished anything to have come close to achieving even the slightest hint of destiny. There was only one explanation. She had to send him back.

She frowned at the thought, though there was no question of the path that she must take. There was much in life that was left up to choice and to chance. She knew this better than most. The possibilities for the future were endless. She could keep this boy, cradle him to her bosom and keep him away from experiencing any more pain. He deserved nothing less, with all he had already been through. Her gaze drifted to his boyish face, the excess baby fat still clinging to his cheeks. Keeping him would bring about the end of all the Nine Realms. She could not make that choice. So the only question left was how to get him back. As difficult as the transition from life to death way, the transition back was all the harder. It was not something this boy could go through even if Hela could just pick and choose who she sent back.

Hela understood the necessary part that death played in the balance of all existence. Of course she did. She had known even before Mistress Death had deemed her as favored and entrusted her with the sacred duty of caretaking the realm of the dead. That did not mean, however, that she never felt the tug at her heartstrings to send back one who had come to her. Mothers of young children, victims of unwarranted violence, dreamers who'd possessed such potential; she had encountered them all a million times over and made the hard choice of her duty over her desires. This was the first time she was choosing to send someone back when she wanted nothing more than to keep them.

The boy stirred beneath her fingers, his eyes scrunching up a bit as he neared consciousness. Hela straightened her back, erasing all signs of weakness. Now, with a witness, she had to play her role as queen. There was no room for faults, only assuredness. Later, once she had the boy settled in, she would make the journey to seek out Mistress Death herself and beg her council. Hela smiled as the boy's eyes blinked open.

"Hello, Tony Stark," she spoke softly, aiming not to startle him.

She knew full well that her features appeared monstrous to most, especially those from Midgard. Her hair and body split down the middle in color, the blackened half of her skin tugging against the soft pale half. Her antlers have been compared to the horns of Midgard's mythic devil more than once. This boy had already been through so much, she did not wish to cause him any more torment. Instead of yelling or jerking away as she excepted though, the boy just stared up at her with wide eyes the color of caramelized sugar.

"Am I still dreaming?"

She leant down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

"I am afraid not, my dear. I am Hela, queen of Helheim. It is the land of the dead."

The boy sat up slowly, his small fists clenching as tears gathered in his eyes.

"I'm…dead?"

"For the time being. Your stay here with me will be shorter than most, rest assured."

He swallowed roughly a few times.

"Good. I-Dad would be so mad if I died. I'm supposed to take over the company! I have to go back so I can show him I can do it!"

Hela bit back the desire to tell him that his father did not deserve such devotion. It was not her place to meddle in the affairs of the living.

"We will get you home, Tony. Don't you fret. Now, come, I must make arrangements for your stay."

It was not exactly common for newly arrived souls to stay at the palace. They did not require rest or sleep as the living did. Their physical limits were all but obliterated. It was difficult to tire when one did not have a body to become exhausted. There were no quarters in the palace except for her own and the barracks for her personal. The barracks were sparse, with rooms only for cleanliness and relaxation, but they would have to do. Besides, the boy needed supervision, someone to look after him. She would leave him with one of her Valkyries while she traveled to see Mistress Death. The man would not be in his quarters, she knew. Though he had some set aside, he preferred to live outside of the palace grounds.

"What is this place?" the boy asked as they walked. "Is it Heaven? There's certainly a lot of gold. Mamma always said that there would be a lot of gold in Heaven."

Hela felt a smile curl her lips and she reached out to ruffle the boy's hair. She knew how he starved for a kind touch and he stood at the perfect height for it.

"No, little one. Heaven is a myth invented by your people. Neither is this Hell. Helheim was the inspiration for both places and has some resemblance to both stories. All dead come through this realm, though some go elsewhere when needed."

Tony frowned, seeming to mull this information over.

"So what about God? Is he here?"

"You will not find God here," Hela evaded.

The boy pursed his lips and did not speak again for a long while.

"How long will it be before I can go back?"

Hela had known the question was coming, but she'd hoped to put it off for as long as possible.

"It will take time, but I will slow your timeline so you will not be gone for too long. I will know more soon. For now, there is someone I want you to meet." She steps out onto to training grounds, the soldiers there in almost the same configuration they had been in when she left. She waved one of them forward. "This is who will be looking after you while I must make a small trip. He is a loyal soldier and a great man. He is human, too, from your world. It should make things a bit easier for you."

The soldier bowed as he reached them.

"My Lady Hela."

The queen smiled.

"Leonidas. I have a task for you."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The trek to the domain of Mistress Death was not an easy one, to be sure. There was plenty of magic involved, ancient magic so old it was hardly recognizable anymore. It was the kind of magic that had existed even before the Old Gods and kept out any who shouldn't be trying to see her. Only those she favored, the ones she chose, could enter her domain. It was both a blessing and a curse. The trip was harrowing, every time.

Hela felt as though the weight of entire world weighed down upon her. Ghostly touches slid over her limbs and clothes, the remnants of those Mistress Death _dis_ favored, burdened forever to this state of not-quite existence. They served as a deterrent to any who thought to cross the Mistress. She was not known for her kind, understanding demeanor.

Cold stone was smooth under Hela's bare feet as she passed the final distance into the sanctuary and the center of Mistress Death's domain. The area was crested with a small hill, atop of which rose a bare, white tree with a shrouded figure standing underneath. Mistress Death did not turn as Hela approached.

"My Lady, I come seeking your guidance."

"The boy."

Her voice was soft, like the touch of a feather, and sweet like honey. It was inviting, the greatest disguise for her true ruthlessness if tested. Death was not cruel, from all that Hela had seen, but she could not precisely be classified as kind, either.

"Yes. I know that he must be sent back. The feeling of the destiny he carries is…I can hardly describe it."

Finally, Mistress Death turned to face Hela. Her features were obscured by the shadows of her cowl until only the faintest of outlines could be seen. Hela had always thought she must be stunningly beautiful.

"There is no need for you to. I already know. He is one of mine."

Hela couldn't be sure if she simply meant that the boy was one of dead or if she meant he was one of her favored ones. At this point, Hela would have readily believed either.

"The boy is staying with Leonidas for now. When he passed, his own son was not far from Tony's age." She paused. "Sending him back will be a great hurdle."

She got the distinct impression that Mistress Death was smiling at her.

"A fine choice. He will be of great help to the boy, as you will be. He will need all of your wisdom, all that you may be able to teach him while he is here. He has much to learn before he is ready for what he must do, and it will come upon him quickly."

Hela brushed aside Death's refusal to use names. She was long accustomed to it by this point.

"He is but a human. He will not live a terribly long life. I was surprised to feel such a powerful destiny attached to his soul."

"He will come again to this realm," Death said fondly, "before it is his time. It will be by his own choosing, then. He will come to see _you_."

Which was unexpected, to say the least. Souls did not simply pop back and forth between death and life. That was not how these things worked.

"I will have to get him back first, I am afraid. I have slowed his timeline, of course, which will buy us time before he is missed in the world of the living, but it will only last so long."

As she well knew. If too much time passed on Midgard before they were able to return Tony to his body, there was a risk of the body being discovered and his death reported. Even if that didn't happen, the body would begin to decay and regenerating the dead tissue upon his return would be unimaginably painful. Hela was loath to inflict such a fate upon a child, particularly one who had already been through so many trials in his short life.

"It will be time enough," Mistress Death said easily. "You needn't worry."

"My Lady," she hesitated, "are _you_ planning to send him back?"

It would certainly be far easier for Mistress Death to grant life once more than it would be for Hela. Hela, after all, only had the powers that Mistress Death granted her. A hand reached out from within the folds of Death's shroud to press flat against the tree. Death's skin was nearly as white as the tree itself, her almost-frail hand so thin it looked like little more than bone. More deception. Mistress did not need physical strength to bring those who opposed her to heel.

"I will not need to. You have already begun the process."

Hela blinked, her lips pulling down just a touch to show her confusion. Mentally, she ran through all that she had done with the boy, which wasn't much.

"I am sorry, My Lady. I do not understand."

"You are your father's daughter," Death prompted. "Surely you are not so easily foiled."

Hela's lips thinned. She regarded Mistress Death's opinion highly. Hela did not want to disappoint her.

"I do not have the ability to send souls back to their bodies as you do. Only my Valkyries may move freely between the realms at my command but they do not return to their bodies as Tony must."

Mistress Death removed her hand from the tree, black soot left behind as a perfect mark of where it had been.

"When was the last time you took a new Valkyrie? None of them ever return in time for their bodies to remain. With no body, there is nowhere for their souls to return to. The soul always remembers where it came from, though. It will return if the vessel is there."

One of Hela's delicate eyebrows rose.

"You wish for him to become a Vakyrie, My Lady?"

"He would not have to join the ranks of your guard until after his final death. So long as he goes through the training, it will fulfill the requirements of what must be done. You will be able to send him wherever it is you would like."

"It will be a grueling process."

Death tilted her head just a bit as she examined Hela. The goddess wished, not for the first time, that she could know what expression Mistress Death wore.

"He is a strong boy. He will be able to take whatever you choose to give him." Fondness entered her voice. "His training has no doubt already begun, considering with whom you left him."

"Leonidas was from Sparta. His thirst for battle and the life of a warrior rivals even the more fervent of the Aesir."

This earned a little nod from her Mistress.

"Which is why he is one of the few humans who have made it into your ranks. But something still bothers you, I see."

Hela pressed her lips tightly together.

"It is nothing, My Lady. I know what I must do."

"Tell me."

Loath though Hela was to show weakness before her Mistress it would be pure folly to disobey an order so direct as that one.

"I have seen the boy's life, is all, as I see the lives of all souls who pass into the realm you tasked me to watch over. He has been through much already in his short life, yet he shows astounding loyalty to those who have caused him his greatest pains."

"You do not wish to send him back."

"But I know well that he must go. You need not worry that this will influences the choices I make."

Death's laugh was lilting and light.

"Of course it will affect your choices and I would wish it no other way. You will show the boy favor and kindness. He will need that memory for when he goes back, if he is to face what's to come and survive it stronger than he was before."

"Your words do not ease my worry for him, I confess."

"They are not meant to. The boy deserves your worry. His life, and his deaths, will not be easy ones."

"Yes…you mentioned that this would not be the only time I would need to send him back. What…precisely is it that he is meant to do?"

She almost did not want to ask, for fear of the answer.

"You will see in time," Death said. "You are too close to him for me to tell you anything more. He is one of _your_ favored ones, too."

The distinct feeling that Death was smiling at her came again.

"I find myself growing fond of him already, it is true. There is something about him that draws me in."

Death tipped her head just the slightest bit in a hint of a nod.

"He will send many to you, in the years to come. Not all of them will be by his choice."

Hela's spine stiffened.

"Again, your words do not ease my worry for him."

Death laughed again.

"Go. Your charge will need your guidance."

As dismissals went, that was a pretty clear one.

A/N: Some of you have already read this on my other stories but this is an IMPORTANT NOTE. PLEASE READ. I am making a permanent move over to Ao3, where I am Shi_Toyu. I will finish posting all of my chaptered fics as I finish writing them, but I will NOT BE POSTING ANY NEW WORKS, including sequels, on this site. If anyone needs an invite to Ao3, please just let me know.


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